


burn the kingdom down

by starfleetbanana



Series: Echoes and souvenirs [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5212127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetbanana/pseuds/starfleetbanana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every mission had been a success, until the last six months on the ship. He’d turned into something he hated. He couldn’t stand looking at his own reflection, or being himself, more accurately. The whole process of having to make decisions, be selfless, and not slightly suicidal when it came to their course of action, was the hardest thing to get through, knowing that he was their captain and everyone trusted him. He wasn’t worthy of that, at least he isn’t now. His eating disorder had become everything for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burn the kingdom down

**Author's Note:**

> This was written more or less based on experiences, my never ending need of angst, and also to make sense of things I can't make sense of and, come on, Jim Kirk helps everyone cope with their problems. I hope you guys enjoy it, and please remember this is quite explicit regarding eating disorders, so please be careful. Also I finally posted this because it took months to finish, and the rest of it will be posted here too. 
> 
> This goes with a fanmix you can find here: http://8tracks.com/starfleetbanana/collision

 

“Call me back, please”.

 

Damn it, he knows waiting for Bones to call him back is useless, he won’t. He’s more likely busy at work, because Starfleet Medical assigned him a post after they decided to stay on Earth.

 

Jim misses his ship, and his crew, though most of his friends are still on Earth, while the others are on different colonies or ships. Knowing he won’t see them anymore bothers him more than anything. It’s cynical, but it’s the truth. He won’t be able to go back in a long time if he wants to be a decent captain instead of the mess he was.

 

Every mission had been a success, until the last six months on the ship. He’d turned into something he hated. He couldn’t stand looking at his own reflection, or being himself, more accurately. The whole process of having to make decisions, be selfless, and not slightly suicidal when it came to their course of action, was the hardest thing to get through, knowing that he was their captain and everyone trusted him. He wasn’t worthy of that, at least he isn’t now.

 

So right before the Bones decided what was best for the both of them, Spock had relieved him as the Captain, and asked him to rest. He’d been right for the first time, Jim had thought, he needed to rest more than anything. The thing is, he didn’t need free time, he didn’t need to sleep, he needed to rest his mind, to stop the thoughts, and if it was impossible on the ship, it’s worse all by himself.

 

He trusted his friends but he just couldn’t tell them what was going on, because then they wouldn’t look at him the way they looked at Captain James T. Kirk, they’d see him as a sick and mad man, who needs to get help as soon as possible. To hell with it, he doesn’t need anyone to babysit him, he never did.

 

He hates the way people who know he’s sick look at him. It makes him feel weak. He’s used to people staring at him, because every single time he goes out to get some food, people look at him wondering why that man has been more than twenty minutes standing in the sweets aisle, trying to decide what he wants.

At the end, he isn’t able to choose, he just takes everything he sees knowing that, despite its flavour, he’ll end up eating everything anyway.

 

Then there’s the cashier, who’s always so polite and nice to him, probably because they see him at least twice a week, but he doesn’t care if they notice. They can stare all they want, but that isn’t going to change the fact that he’ll eat all he just bought, get rid of it and feel something no one else could comprehend.

 

It’s like a never ending high that, strangely, makes sense in his head. He knows it’s disgusting and probably the most stupid thing for the rest of the world, but for him, it’s the only way he can contain his feelings and let himself feel _something_ without messing anything up. He can allow himself to feel alive, to breathe, to taste anything and everything, to become a part of his body instead of a separate soul, and just be, without worrying about what’s going to happen next, or what happened before because it’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. He craves it, he needs it to be able to keep going, the particular silence of it, the sensation of being left alone by the rest of the world, and having everything stop as he swallows. _Eat, forget, forgive, purge, restart._

 

It’s bittersweet how the only time he leaves the apartment is when he goes out to get yet more food so no one will notice how much food is missing.

 

He’s glad he fell in love with Bones instead of someone else, otherwise, he would’ve been left alone a while ago with all the worrying and the knowledge his heart could stop at any moment.

 

Being honest to himself, he can’t understand how Bones can love someone like him. Everything about him is too much, his feelings are overwhelming, and the way he needed Bones to stand right next to him in the bridge was ridiculous. He’s was CMO, he was supposed to be doing his job in sickbay, but he couldn’t let him go.

 

He’s been sitting on the sofa for a while now, waiting patiently for his phone to ring, trying to distract himself from all the food he’s hidden in one of the cupboards, where Bones would’ve never looked. Now it seems stupid to hide and hoard food when he’s all by himself in the place he’s forced to call home.

 

 He doesn’t notice when he starts pacing, his mind somewhere else, his body suddenly uncontrollable, and then there’s no stopping him, unless Bones opens the door and says “I’m home” in a loud voice.

 

This time Jim knows it won’t happen. He doesn’t need to calculate how much time he needs to eat, get rid of the food, and then clean, and so there’ll be no surprises until he decides it’s enough, _if_ he can do that, because most of the time he’s unable to, despite his body aching and his mind racing, he can’t help but keep going until all the food is gone to finally let his body rest for a while.

 

He opens carefully the box of cereals, without making any noise -he’s used to it now because when Bones is home he has to be silent, careful, nothing but a fantastic liar-. He breathes in before finally giving up and starts moving as quickly as he can so everything will be ready. The food has to be on the table in the right place, a few glasses of water, a cup of coffee in case he feels like it, because he has to make it as easy as he can.

 

He’s ready in less than an hour, and then he gets ready to clean. He’s used to the whole process. The only thing he hates about it, besides the constant disgust, are the thoughts once he’s finished. He can’t avoid thinking about how much it was, and what if he didn’t throw it all up? What if there’s still food in his stomach? When will it be enough for him to stop feeling and finally stop being so needy? Food shouldn’t mean anything to him, but somehow it became this big and important thing that replaced everything else. The lack of company, of self-love, of confidence, meant nothing compared to long minutes of almost choking trying to swallow too much food at the same time, and the headaches that no meds make go away. He can’t even say he’s disgusted by having to throw up because it’s automatic, he doesn’t have to give it much thought, his body does it all by itself while his mind shuts down, and that’s when he gets a grasp of what the world must feel like for healthy people. The moment he can finally breathe, wipe the tears and look at the mirror to see if it’s too obvious, is the only moment where he feels alive now. Bingeing numbs him, makes his thoughts disappear, throwing up helps him come back.

 

If it wasn’t for the silence, and all of it being purely physical, -the taste, texture, smell of food, the burning of his throat, the scratch on his knuckles-, having to apologise and talk about his feelings to Leonard would be easier and he wouldn’t have to repeat the whole cycle again. Truly, it’s stupid. He needs to binge and purge because he’s upset, but bingeing and purging upsets him even more. How ironic.

 

There’s no one to blame, but every time he finds himself walking toward the bathroom to stick his fingers down his throat for the third time in a day he tries to recall when things went wrong, though some days he’s absolutely sure it’s his own fault, as if in need for an excuse to hurt himself, and knowing he’s the one who ruined everything in Bones’ life feeds his will to keep going.  He’s too scared to give himself a few minutes to think about something else.

 

Bones is everything he has and there’s nothing to look forward to but going back to the ship with him and the rest of the crew. It breaks him apart because everyone leaves and he knows it’s his own fault. He makes them go away.

 

He sits on the sofa again, waiting for Bones to get home, to smile at him, to make him forget how worthless and stupid he is for listening to those disgusting thoughts that make him believe eating and throwing up will fix whatever’s wrong with him.

He likes Bones’ acceptance to his unwillingness to talk about it, he likes the way Bones seems to dance around the subject whenever it’s evident his body won’t stand it forever. _The word denial is too strong_. Bones’ nothing but extremely careful and sympathetic and that’s why he doesn’t ask more than what he needs to know.

 

Jim wonders what he’d be like without his mood swings and the things that make him only a bit grumpier and more hyper than he usually is. He wonders what he’d do without his eating disorder and he thinks he’d feel horrible and hollow. Or maybe he’d feel loved because Bones would still be there, but then maybe he’d be no one.

 

Everything looks as if he’s going to come back at any given moment. As if it’s just another evening, waiting for him to come back to _him_ , give him a chaste kiss and have dinner next to him trying his hardest not to stare at the way Jim eats or gets up way too soon.

 

Jim stares at the TV and, after a while, he notices it’s too loud. He always does that just to muffle the noise from the outside.

 

“That’s why he left” He whispers to himself, and snorts.  

 

It reminds him of all the things Bones hates about him, and he knows all of it is irrelevant compared to the real problem.Bones told him once that whatever was going on in his head made him believe he needed to be fixed, but what Bones needed to understand was that it was all about survival and instinct and urges he couldn’t control anymore, things that were completely wrong. Everything about him was _so_ wrong.  

 

By the time he’s analysed the aspects of actually calling Leonard without having a drink before at all he has three missed calls from Gaila and a text Nyota’d sent the day before he doesn’t want to read.

 

Feeding the guilt and shame avoiding his friends is like keeping the monster alive, but staring at the wall, making sure he avoids every kind of activity that has no connection whatsoever with food is the only validation of his worthlessness he’s got. Being alone makes him realise he isn’t the one that’s hurting more between the two of them.

 

Jim couldn’t even understand what had happened because realisation had hit him hard so suddenly and he was crying on the verge of what felt like a panic attack, because Leonard wasn’t there to hold him in his arms, or to whisper how much he loved him in a soothing voice till it stopped. He was alone, feeling the tears running down his face as Bones’ words cut through him. It had been his fault.

 

He’d thought Leonard was probably used to it, so he’d just shrugged at his mumbling and sighs instead of actually listening.

 

What made it even more ridiculous was the fact that he hadn’t noticed for the first hours. Bones had left out of nowhere and he had every right, they didn’t live together, he just spent most nights there, taking care of Jim, but it’d been too long, too many days without a word from him.

 

Ten minutes before he’d been sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for his heart to stop pounding because it was scary. He wanted to say hello and pretend nothing had happened, just like he always did. But he couldn’t, because his cheeks looked swollen and Leonard wouldn’t shut up about it.

 

“Are you okay?” He heard Leonard ask quietly from the other side of the door. He always did. And Jim knew it had more to do with a life or death situation rather than a routine related question.

 

He always said things like _be careful_ or _call me if anything happens, please_ or _I love you._ Things Jim had never heard before in his life and he knew Leonard was all about expressing his love through little details like cups of tea, glasses of water or just medication that’d help him get through the day without his stomach or head killing him, so it meant more than anything to him to be able to listen to that sort of thing daily. It was so weird for him to stay home and have to forget it all because Bones was somewhere else.

 

“Hey, I know this must be annoying, but you asked me to call you if I needed –“ He tries so hard to stop crying when he starts talking, and his voice probably sounds hoarse but he doesn’t want to stop because he feels like if he forgets telling Bones he’s fine then he won’t be. “Please just call me back, I think something’s off, and I’m sorry if you’re busy at work just, fuck, could you come over after your shift?” He hangs up as soon as his voices breaks and, damn it; his throat is so dry it hurts to cry.

 

He knows that’s it. There’s nothing he can do after that and it’s destroying him because he doesn’t think he deserves it, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do it without having someone to look after him. But he knows he isn’t exactly good at being any kind of stable and even if Bones does no longer consider that cold apartment his home, Jim stills thinks as long as Leonard’s there it is home.

 

* * *

 

 

When Christopher Pike told him things were going to be okay he didn’t want to believe it, mostly because he was a pessimist, but also because he’d been trying his hardest for ages to make it easier and it seemed impossible. Getting punched again and again meant nothing, even though it hurt like hell, he’d had worse things happen to him, but ever since he’d listened to those words things had gone downhill.

 

No one had ever told him before things were going to be okay.

 

Chris Pike was a man he barely knew. Logs said he’d been interested in George’s work, which actually meant George’s death. But he’d been honest, he’d given him a chance, and though he couldn’t say he knew how it felt to have a family, Captain Pike looked after him, believed in him, and supported him and that meant more than blood to Jim. Chris was the closest thing he had to a father. And just like every other parent, trusting his son way too much, he had never noticed what was happening in Jim’s quarters –not that it mattered, anyway-.

 

Jim’s arrival at the Academy had been a little different, but he’d found someone as lost and destroyed as him, though he looked considerably better than him.

 

Though his classes had been hard because he had an awful time trying to focus on something that wasn’t food –making lists of what he wanted to buy, the food he needed to hide from his roommate, his roommate’s schedule to be able to binge and purge without worrying about anything else, his weight, _god, fuck,_ his weight-, he’d always been a great student. Most of his problems had a lot to do with the fact he couldn’t react properly to stress, to relationships and such, like choosing the right words to say to teachers, and actually doing something else than eating and throwing up when he didn’t have any classes to attend to. But the same destroyed man had been right next to him, quite literally, all those years.

 

The so-called-roommate, or Bones, who’d definitely learnt to accept his nickname instead of rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose every time Jim tried a new one, was a special person. It wasn’t only his accent, or his grumpiness, but the fact that he actually cared. He’d gone to med school, so the man knew how to do everything Jim was bad at, like facing stressing situations, studying, and taking care of himself, and despite the differences it’d been great.

 

Jim believed he had some kind of a talent that came in handy with his illness. He was a great liar, and he’d hidden his illness from anyone who’d been long enough in his life for him to care about. Lies were the only thing that would save him from having to stop living his life completely to try and see if treatment would actually help him or not, and so Leonard McCoy’s ignorance became the hardest thing to keep intact during their first year sharing a room.

 

He was messy, but when it came to his food he had specific rituals that could not, for any reason, be questioned by anyone, and so everything that involved food simply couldn’t take place in front of Leonard. Hiding his food became harder than ever, but he was creative, and he found the time and place to hide a few granola bars, packs of cookies, boxes of cereals, and most of his binge food. The only thing that annoyed him about that was not being able to stare at the food -just look at it with a clear mind and laugh because he’d have to eat all of that by himself and it’d feel like hell, but it’d be freeing-. Eventually he had to throw things in the trash, like cakes, or things he couldn’t keep hidden forever and those were the disgusting parts of living in a tiny room with someone else.

 

On the other hand, Leonard was completely different from Jim, not the opposite though. Thankfully, he never felt the need to ask too many things, to get in Jim’s side of the room and go through his things. Not because of privacy, between both of them boundaries weren’t even a thing after a while, but because of what it would’ve meant just then, and Jim eventually stopped being careful enough.

 

There weren’t enough reasons as to why, but he knew one of them was being in love with McCoy. He felt quite stupid because Bones’ was probably the opposite of what he’d considered the ideal guy before, but there he was, staring at his best friend as he swallowed granola bar after granola bar without a word. It was the opposite of a romantic situation too, he thought facing the toilet, but his life was more or less the opposite of what he’d always expected.

 

Jim washed his hands carefully, examined his eyes and his face before opening the door and starting a conversation. It was the usual routine, but he couldn’t say that made him less anxious.

 

“So... I’m going back home on Friday” Bones said, as he folded his cadet reds. “Do you wanna come?”

 

Jim snorted and looked at his eyes.

 

Maybe having a best friend was the only thing he’d needed all that time. Having no family left, and being more focused on getting enough money to spend on food after finishing school didn’t qualify as a decent adult life, and so he thought he had to give himself a chance to know what the hell people meant when they said they loved someone.

 

“Meeting parents and all, Bones? Didn’t know we were a thing” Jim said with a cocky grin. And he’d automatically regretted it when Leonard turned back and laughed, with the same honest smile he tried to hide so very hard from Jim.

 

“Yeah, meeting parents and all” He answered and kept folding the rest of his clothes.  Jim smiled, thinking about how much he meant for someone finally. He had someone in his life that was a constant presence, someone who cared so much they weren’t capable of leaving him alone because Leonard thought he deserved to know what an actual loving and functional family felt like.

 

“I’d really like to”.

 

* * *

 

 

McCoy’s life had been very different from what Jim had actually pictured. He’d had problems with his ex wife, and he’d had worse trying to accept himself but he’d always had his mother’s support. They’d lost David and although Leonard had tried to save him, there was no way they could’ve seen him suffer for much longer so they let him go. That’s where Leo’s fear of failure came from, and it had killed him for ages, but he’d managed to get over it with Jim’s help. Now he knew he could actually be a successful person without having to pretend to be someone else entirely.

 

Eleanora McCoy was the sweetest woman he’d ever known, though she cared too much about everything, and asked him every minute a bit more about himself because she absolutely needed to know everything about him. Jim felt very comfortable, he felt liked by someone who barely knew him, just because they shared Leonard’s love in one way or another.

 

Jim couldn’t say he believed he and Leonard would be together for a long time, but god, he hoped so.

 

It had started in a quiet night after a week full of exams, right after Jim had binged and purged before Leonard got to their room after his last exam.

 

It was a Friday night, and Jim was incredibly exhausted and a bit sad, so after he complained about feeling awful, and wanting to sleep but not being able to, Bones lay down on Jim’s bed, facing his back and tentatively kissed his neck. Jim sighed, as if whispering to himself “finally” and fell asleep comfortably with Bones’ body pressed to his. They hadn’t questioned it because they both knew it made sense and they didn’t owe any explanation to themselves. Being comfortable with one another, not knowing each other perfectly, but respecting and trusting each other felt nice. Except for the fact Jim wasn’t telling the truth.

 

Leonard could’ve found out about it in a million different ways. It could’ve been in a very tragic way, including Jim’s tears and blood all over himself –he was grateful that’d never happened-, but it had been worse according to Jim’s thoughts. He’d rather make up excuses for tragic instead of disrespectful.

He learnt to love Leonard like he’d never loved anyone, including the way he expressed himself, and the way he looked at him. Though Jim loved everything about that man, Leonard couldn’t love absolutely everything James had to show. He knew he had secrets, he just couldn’t point out what they were, and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either, so no one ever spoke a word about all the time spent in the bathroom or the way his heartbeats made Leonard worry.

 

That weekend in company of Leonard and Eleanora McCoy had been all he needed to make sure he really loved him, but also that Bones loved him back.

 

Bones’ mother was the kind of woman who looked incredibly strong, and she certainly was, but also was very considerate, and gentle.

 

She showed her love through food, which Jim saw as a way to prove himself, but she was exactly like Leonard, she loved hugs and kind words though they were exclusively for people she loved. He felt worthy of people loving him between them, but three days surrounded by kindness was too much for him, and he started feeling guilty whenever he accepted another slice of pie, and another kiss from Bones. He just needed to let it all go one way or another.

 

He couldn’t ignore the need to do it, he couldn’t shut down his body screaming for him to get rid of it, because during the third day having a cup of coffee with toast felt too heavy in his stomach. He started shaking, sweating, and trying to calm himself down never worked, because the only thing that’d make the anxiety and the fear go away would be throwing up.

 

He couldn’t figure out why it always happened like that, but he could actually feel the food in his stomach, a voice screaming and pleading in his head, _please make it go away,_ and it felt like hell that just a cup of coffee and a slice of bread made him feel like he’d swallowed something too heavy to hold inside his weak body. He could feel his skin stretching, and all his senses shut down as his insides burnt and hurt. He needed to be empty, or something real bad would happen.

 

Compulsion and compulsory seemed the same for a while. There was no other option.

 

He’d tried to be respectful, because throwing up in Bones’ special place, his home, wasn’t really polite, though no one would notice. But everything was so overwhelming, from the smell of caramel to the way Bones’ hand felt against his waist, and he couldn’t stand it.

 

The moment he shut the bathroom door behind him made him feel lighter.

 

They had dinner together. Jim swallowed bite after bite quickly. It was physically painful and after less than five minutes he excused himself to go to the bathroom and do the only thing he was really good at.

 

With the time it had stopped being hard. His body was used to it after all those years, and though he’d loved to eat a lot more, he couldn’t do it, not in front of them, so he shoved his fingers down his throat, trying his hardest not to be loud. It felt like he could breathe again, like everything around him was exactly as he wanted it to be. Everything was under control, he was okay.

 

When he went back to the table nothing felt different. He felt disgusting for what he’d done to the people who were waiting for him, but after a while he allowed himself to enjoy life while he could, forgetting his illness so he could honestly laugh.

 

His throat was killing him because he’d hurt himself. His mouth tasted like blood, and his chest kept hurting even though he’d thrown up more than an hour before, but he pretended he was okay, like he always did, because it made things easier for everyone, except for Bones who kept asking too many questions about his past and the way he felt. He felt quite uneasy until he stopped.

 

“You know I’m a doctor, right? I don’t know a lot about what’s going on with you but you’re still bleeding, your jaw looks swollen, your eyes puffy, and your knuckles are bruised. Not even red Jim, they’re almost a deep purple” He said, sitting on the bed to put on his pyjama pants.

 

His words were so casual Jim laughed at the way he spoke, it came out as something natural, and Bones looked at him questioningly.

 

“Oh, so you don’t know a lot?” He asked with an anxious smile on his face. He was scared, but Leonard made him feel something slightly different from what he’d expected to feel in that very moment.

 

“I’ve been doing some research, dancing around the subject. Worried boyfriend stuff” He answered, getting into the bed, next to Jim. He covered both of them with the blankets and then turned around to look into Jim’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, stroking Jim’s cheek.

“It isn’t that much of a problem and it’s disgusting and very hard to explain” He answered, staring into the wall, instead of looking into Leonard’s eyes because it felt as if his heart was going to stop at any given moment.

 

“So it just happens that my boyfriend has an eating disorder since I don’t know when and didn’t think it was important to tell me even though he’s in poor health because of it? Very considerate of you, Jim” He sighed at Leonard’s choice of words, and waited for his thoughts to make sense at once.

 

It was very hard to explain the way his brain made sense of his eating disorder, because for some reason, when he talked about the process, it sounded quite stupid and humiliating, and there were no words to convey the way he felt about food.

 

Poor stupid kid, he thought.

 

“I can’t make it sound prettier than what it is, Bones” He said, still trying to find the right words.

 

There was a long silence while both of them shifted in the bed to get closer. “It’s like drowning in your emotions and then letting them go through food. It’s disgusting, sorry” He apologised, interrupting his train of thought.

 

His skin started feeling like it was stretching once again, the worst thing he’d ever felt and there was no way to describe it because it was literally as if his body was changing and gaining weight out of nowhere in a few seconds. His stomach felt big, and the swollen glands on his face made him feel enormous. He closed his eyes trying to push the sensation away, but it was so hard to focus on the fact that reality didn’t allow that to happen, that he wasn’t really big, that he looked quite healthy even though he wasn’t. Suddenly he couldn’t stand being himself.

 

“You don’t need to do those things, Jim, you’re perfect just the way you are” Bones said cupping his face.

 

“Leonard, it doesn’t work like in the movies, alright? I don’t have this thing because I think I’m ugly or fat, I think that because of it, and I can’t stand it because of it. I don’t know why it happened and that’s why I can’t make it stop. If it was all about losing weight I would’ve stopped ages ago because, as you can see, this shit doesn’t work at all” He answered, always with a smile on his face as he listened to himself recognise his fears out loud.

He freaking loved the man, but he was tired of hearing the stereotypical _I want to have a perfect body_ because it didn’t work that way most of the time. There was something in his past, something wrong with his brain and his feelings that made him feel the only way to let go of his pain was throwing up the last meal he’d shared with Winona. It still hurt.

 

“Then stop hurting yourself. You know you can die, right?” Jim let out a laugh. Of course he knew, he knew all there was on eating disorders, every consequence, every aspect of his life that’d been fucked over and over because of it, yet it wasn’t enough to make him stop. “Have you ever tried eating healthily, talked to someone about it?” He asked genuinely.

 

For some reason everything Leonard said seemed such a cliché that he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like it really was a bad scripted movie.

 

“I know you want to help, but the only way to cope with this, is actually not feeling and you know I’m not very good at that”.

 

“I can help you, if you want to” Jim closed his eyes and nodded, feeling Bones shifting once again, to press a chaste kiss to his lips. It felt nice to believe it would work for a second, he knew it wouldn’t, but he had to let Leonard believe he was worth his time.

 

 He felt like crying because finally someone had faith on him and cared enough to give him an opportunity to completely fuck up with no excuses once again.”You deserve a chance to enjoy things without feeling guilty”.

_I know,_ he told himself, _I know._

  

* * *

 

 

Jim was a very loyal and honest person most of the time, but during medical evaluations he couldn’t help but lie. It was his defence mechanism, and there was no stopping him.

 

He couldn’t tell other people how much he could actually eat and throw up or how many times a day. They wanted him to tell all his secrets, and that couldn’t happen, at least not with people he barely knew around him.

 

Leonard had asked him politely to have a talk with Chris Pike, and ask for help. They both had a conversation with him, and they tried to be quite logical about the subject instead of showing the way they felt about it. The statistics didn’t help, Jim’s thoughts didn’t help, so he just nodded at everything he heard, and remained calm during all the time Leonard kept an eye on him. It was killing him.

 

“Son, I don’t need to understand, I just need you to get better and to think clearly” Pike had said, and he’d understood.

 

It was scary because they both wanted him to go back to someone he couldn’t remember and someone neither of them knew nor loved. It seemed rather impossible.

 

But he tried. Every time his so-called “recovery team” asked him how he was doing he smiled at them, and told all the lies he could think of. Great, he wasn’t craving anything, he wasn’t hungry, he didn’t need to weigh himself anymore, it was empowering, he felt comfortable in his own body. It was very much like a bad scripted movie still. But what was real hurt more than anything.

 

It was getting harder to hide from Leonard, but he was good at it. He didn’t want to be touched anymore -he was losing weight too quickly-, and now he wasn’t really eating in front of Bones. Having to start eating and stopping when it seemed enough was harder than enlisting to Starfleet, harder than leaving Winona, but he didn’t need to do it unless someone was looking.

 

In his room, all was quiet and calm, cuddling and kisses and quick apologies, and he wanted to try oh, so bad, but no one ever understood how his brain was addicted to it. The thrill of almost being caught all the time, and having to hide the evidence of his binge sessions. It was all planned beforehand, the food carefully selected so he wouldn’t have a hard time throwing it up whether it was in the toilet, the shower, a plastic bag or a Tupperware. It didn’t matter, as long as no one else knew how disgusting he was.

 

No one could understand his problem wasn’t food itself, or the way he looked. They thought fixing his potassium levels was enough to make him go back to eating healthily, except he had nothing to come back to, because he’d never been healthy mentally or physically.

 

It was a roller coaster for ages and Bones knew treatment wasn’t doing a thing for him, except making him waste time and feel more like a failure every time he felt he wasn’t doing well enough in his exams. Eventually Jim asked to stop the peer pressure, because it was still in his head, and Leonard had just stopped trying, because he’d thought it was all as under control as it could get.

 

Years later, a few days sharing quarters with Jim on the Enterprise was enough to get a clear picture of what was really happening. What was sadder than anything was that he couldn’t do anything but ask Jim to go see him and get a physical at least every two weeks to make sure he wasn’t going to die in the goddamned Captain’s chair.

 

Truly, he was risking it all for his eating disorder. Diplomacy meant nothing when he needed to throw up an alien dinner, or avoid missions because he felt like if he moved, his body would actually collapse.

 

It was funny, a bit. Well, not at all. It had been better before, when it’d meant a challenge, avoiding Spock’s inquiries, and playing hide and seek with Leonard every time he had to go to medbay, but he knew, he just knew, when he opened his eyes and started another shift, that his body wasn’t taking it all so well.

 

He was always dizzy, cold, unfocused and incapable of being a proper captain. Worst of all, he was putting everyone at risk. It hadn’t been enough until Spock had asked him to stop for the sake of everyone else’s life and for the Federation.

 

He’d nodded, walked to his quarters stoically, binged -and purged more blood than food-, and cried for a while. He’d lost everything, but that wasn’t enough to give it up.

 

* * *

 

 

There are some basic rules he’s got to follow, the voice in his head says -it’s not an actual, physical voice, it’s just very loud thoughts he can’t ignore-.

 

Rule number one says he can’t eat unless he’s throwing it up. It doesn’t matter how, when or where. That’s how he’s got disgusting stories to tell when he’s too drunk to care about embarrassment. It’s hard to follow, but he knows it’s for his own good, kind of. It’s better if he doesn’t eat; it feels awful but better than keeping things down.

 

Rule number two is a bit simpler. Don’t ask for help when you think you’ve had enough, because it’s about to get worse, and whatever in his head is telling him not to ask for help once again, is right. He knows he thinks he’s miserable right now, but he’ll know what miserable really is when he pleads and begs to be left alone, to indulge one last time and he’s denied the right to do so. Loss of control, loss of integrity.

 

He gets easily frustrated and forgets what he’s about to do. The best thing to remember it is probably repeating the whole cycle once again.

 

The steps to follow are detailed in his head, he quickly goes over them as the hollowness inside his chest seems to sharpen and stab at his lungs in the process. Low calories first, strong coloured food then, and after that who cares. Nothing too greasy, lots of water, and here we go again.

 

He starts with a big salad, some fruit, yogurt, ice cream. It’s soft and sweet in his mouth, melting, becoming nothing in his body. It doesn’t make him feel better. To be honest, he doesn’t feel better until he gets to the heavy stuff, things harder to swallow, a chocolate cake, some slices of bread and butter, cookies dipped in cold water, something that doesn’t taste good at all but, please god, he needs to get it all in before the guilt swallows him back. He gulps down a bottle of water, or as much as he can before his stomach hurts so much he can’t move.

 

It’s moments like these where he feels utterly ashamed and humiliated, yet grateful there’s no one else to see him.

 

He reaches at the trash can, and it hurts so much to breathe in and out when the food’s still in.

 

His middle finger reaches the back of his throat, and he’s already thrown up too many times, so it’s harder to get things going. It takes time, pressure in his stomach, and the pain makes his legs shake and his eyes water. He doesn’t know if he’s crying because of the pain, or because it’s something that happens when you make yourself sick.

 

The bread and cookies hurt worse than ever, they get stuck in his throat, and the water just makes it all messier. He wishes he could see himself so he’d know he’s got to stop because it’s too much, but he needs his own private little hell to get some perspective.

 

His mobile rings, and he’s quite sure it’s Bones actually calling back. He wants to answer, he needs to answer, but he can’t do anything but retch and stare at the trash can. Not much is out yet, so he can’t allow himself to stop, or he’s going to get heavier, and the guilt will make his thoughts unbearable. He’s been there, he knows he can fix it, but it’s got to be after he’s done throwing up, otherwise it’ll be just wrong.

 

He’s got vomit all over his shoes, and his forearm. It’s okay, he’s used to it, he’s kind of glad the floor is cleaner than he expected it to be.

 

After he cleans, he feels his pulse, drinks a glass of water, and takes the phone to check if it was Leonard or not. He wishes he was left alone, numb and cold, but Bones would never allow that, right?

 

No, because Leonard’s tiny world is collapsing too. The images in his head are becoming nothing but dust, including the constant bickering with Spock, his motivation to become a doctor, his mother’s love, taking David McCoy’s life, loving James Kirk, all crumbling as the seconds pass and Jim doesn’t answer the phone. It makes him feel rather guilty, because what if he’s royally fucked up this time?

 

Waking up every day, scared to find Jim lying dead on his own vomit on the bathroom floor has made him feel broken once again, or it’s just that being utterly frightened of losing him and having to check his pulse every hour during the night makes no sense whatsoever in anything related to what love’s supposed to be. Oh, he knows.

 

He keeps himself busy for a few days, talking to Christine, seeing too many patients, getting enough information to give Jim a five hour talk on feelings, self destruction and losing yet someone else because there’s nothing he can do. He’s also scared of failure, but he copes in a sensible way, unlike Jim.

 

At the hospital the world seems a better place, because Starfleet Medical isn’t always full of tragic accidents and sick people who’ve lost their sense of self. Jim’s a sadder picture than what he sees as a doctor, so he’d rather keep himself busy talking about, and sometimes to, his other patients –a young girl who won’t eat, a thirty something year old man who reminds him so much of Jim, a woman who’s unable to keep food down-. He wonders why he’s been punished by the unknown forces of the universe, being able to help everyone but the only person he truly loves.

 

“You should let me talk to him, take me to his place, calm him down” Christine says over a cup of coffee during lunch. Leonard smiles because she thinks she can talk sense into everyone, but Jim’s stubborn. M’Benga nods next to her.

“If you could see how people’s eyes brighten when you tell them they don’t actually need to eat. They can manage with liquids for a while, maybe that will make it easier for him” Geoffrey adds, looking at Leonard with some kind of pity he’ll never be able to forget.

 

“It’s not about that” He says, almost to himself. “He’s thin, yes, but food isn’t what he needs”.

 

“We know he’s deprived his body of a lot of things, but food’s the first step” Christine says, chewing on her lip. She’s known Jim for ages, she cares, he knows, but that doesn’t change things at all. _It_ doesn’t work _that_ way. “Plus once his body’s healthier, things will start making sense, maybe” She sips from her white cup of coffee.

 

Leonard stops for a moment and thinks about how for Jim even considering a cup of coffee with cream and sugar would make him think of, at least, five different outcomes. It seems ridiculous how easy it is for everyone to eat, because it’s necessary to survive and because it’s also enjoyable, but for people like Jim, it’s panic, and a matter of life or death.

 

“I should talk to him about it” M’Benga adds, agreeing with Christine. Leonard chuckles, and now he gets how weird Jim must feel every time someone just eats without giving it a thought next to him, because they’re both staring at him, and he starts laughing at his own pain and the impossibility of seeing Jim coming back from the constant high of having an eating disorder you can’t fight back and letting yourself go.

 

“I’d like to see that. ‘Jim, eating will save your life’” He gulps down his own coffee. It burns, but it feels better than anything he’s felt during the last few days, better than the hopelessness of not being able to help because Jim doesn’t want any help. “Everyone seems to forget it’s in his head, and his body won’t be able to keep things down for a while, it hasn’t done so for ages. He knows all the tricks, he doesn’t care anymore” Leonard states, almost overanalysing the situation, and making himself remember all the ugly stuff.

 

He can’t recall when Jim asking for him to wait until he finishes cleaning the bathroom became part of his routine, how seeing empty packs and boxes of food, and vomit stained clothing became acceptable and just _so normal_ to see every day. He doesn’t want to remember when Jim’s cold body wrapped in blankets in the middle of summer was just something he had to make sure of, when checking his potassium levels became such a critical part of their relationship.

 

Jim became weaker and thinner and unstable. Leonard became weaker and sadder and less steady. He couldn’t help himself so, of course, he’d never be able to save Jim from his own mind. It kills him, thinking it’s all in that stubborn brain of his.

 

The truth is, he hasn’t slept since he left Jim crying at the door, asking for forgiveness for something he didn’t quite understand. He always asked for forgiveness, when all he had to ask for was help, so as soon as he listens to that tiny “something’s off” in his voicemail, something clicks inside him and he just knows he’s about to lose it completely.

 

The hours pass so slow it feels like torture for him. He makes sure every patient’s fine, checking twice after he’s seen them to make sure he hasn’t been distracted by the thought of Jim violently choking on his own vomit. Intrusive thoughts are becoming his thing.

 

The world seems to stop spinning after a while, as he tries to get his shit together. You’ve got to be the responsible adult, he tells himself, but he can’t forget the fact he’s also hurt by Jim’s illness, by his actions.

 

Space wasn’t supposed to mean a thing for him, but being on Earth makes reality weigh on him, and breathing is hard when he thinks how someone’s perception changes based on their function on society. Out of the Enterprise, Jim was deemed useless, next to Jim, Leonard was deemed useless, and for the first time in months he lets guilt wash over him. Being unable to stop it is partially his fault.

 

He runs, his hands shake as he gets the card out of his pocket while he’s on the elevator. Two seconds, he doesn’t knock. When he walks in Jim’s still on the couch, and it feels as if the world’s moving way too fast, and his legs can’t hold his body anymore, but he knows he’s got to be strong one, so he clears his throat and says “hey”.

 

Jim looks up, his eyes are red rimmed, _don’t think about his eyes don’t think about his lips don’t think about his bones don’t think about his knuckles don’t think about his pain¸_ and Leonard lets himself calm down for a while.

 

“Hey” Jim answers, and his voice sounds hoarse. When he speaks up, Jim feels the taste of blood filling his mouth once again. It’s overwhelming and it makes him want to throw up, _wrong answer._

 

“What was it?” Leonard says a bit out of breath. _Was it George’s death? Was it Winona and Sam leaving? Was it Kodos? Was it survival?_ But all he means is “why”, something none of them will ever be able to answer.

 

“I ate your favourite cereals, and also spent too many credits on food I threw up, I’m sorry” He lets the words out almost laughing. It’s a faux apology, but he’s trying to explain how lost and out of himself he is.

 

The world has never made sense for Jim Kirk, always full of challenges and façades, too much blood and things an 8 year old kid couldn’t deserve, but had to deal with. If any professional thought about it, it actually made sense, with the self-sacrifice and the questioning everything around him, but from a sensible point of view, it should have been enough years ago.

 

Jim couldn’t find a way out, couldn’t make sense of a universe that kept expanding, a body that kept doing uncontrollable things and feelings getting more and more intense. It was a vicious circle, and he was trapped in the middle of it all, counting calories and on his knees, pleading for someone to truly listen to him and to understand what he meant.

 

“Also there’s vomit on the bed sheets, and a bit of blood on the shower curtain, you know I didn’t mean to” Jim keeps going, with a smile in his face and, for the first time in his life, honesty. “I can’t get up without feeling like I might vomit my stomach. Sorry about that, too”.

 

Leonard’s trapped in the same loop, not quite sure about wanting to get out of it, if it means leaving Jim behind. He doesn’t care if he’s going to have to carry him out of there, blood and vomit stained, crying his eyes out, and wasting a life time on trying to help him, but he can’t keep going without Jim, healthy or not.

 

Jim thinks of _rule number two,_ and he feels as if he’s swallowed glass every time he puts any sort of pressure on his stomach, so he decides he just needs to stop altogether and let Leonard do the talking. He doesn’t say a thing, except for mumbling he’ll be back in a while.

 

Once he’s made sure Jim’s okay he needs to take a moment to think. It’s stupid, really, how it’s not only consuming his life, his body, his everything, but also how it’s taking Bones’ strength second by second.

 

He changes the bed sheets, makes sure to clean the bathroom and takes about ten minutes doing so, telling himself it’ll be alright even though he knows it won’t. The mess in the kitchen and Jim’s words pierce right through him because it all seems like a bad joke.

 

Once he goes back to the living room, and sees Jim slowly breathing in and out –whether it is because of the pain he’s feeling or because of him trying to control his tears, it’s not his problem at the moment- his train of thought goes back to normal. _This_ is normal for them, looking at each other while both of them slowly die because of what they got themselves into.

 

“They don’t know how to help” Jim says, before Leonard has a chance to ask what’s going on. “It fucking hurts so much, and they keep saying it’s all in my head, but it’s also in my body. I want to keep things down, and how can a cookie stab my insides so many times in a minute? Ugh” His skin is pale and clammy, he’s probably cold. Leonard knows saying he understands won’t change anything because he doesn’t, not quite. “They want me to get out of this, but they can’t even make the physical pain stop. Bones, make it stop” He whispers, and then he punches and kicks the cushions of the sofa before being stopped by the pain again, “Fuck”.

 

It hits him right then and there, how Jim’s exactly like any other addict out there, unable to get help because it’s so much more than hunger. It’s the revolting need to feel like he’s got a place in the world for himself no one can replace, it’s the pleasure he experiences in knowing he’s so out of control everyone thinks he’s in control. His moans get louder, and Leonard sighs because they know there’s nothing they can do.

 

“Is it too stupid if I say you should’ve stopped because you knew this was happening?”

 

“Yes, it is”.

 

He’d been standing in front of the Jim’s body for a while, being careful not to touch, because he’d forgotten how sick and fragile he looked when he wasn’t pretending to be okay. The bags under his eyes are a dark pink, his eyes are watery and bloodshot, and his legs and arms look too thin to hold him up now he shakes the entire day long.

 

He takes his right arm, kisses his wrist –another way to make sure his heart is alright-, avoiding his hand and the scratches on it. “I don’t think I can move” Jim whispers when he feels Bones trying to get him to sit, taking him by the elbow. Even thinking seems to make everything hurt.

 

He didn’t notice when he’d started crying, but maybe tears are just a natural part of both of them by now. Leonard helps him up, walks him to the bedroom as he complains, and just waits for him to calm down. He knows he likely won’t be able to make things stop, because Jim will never be able to forget the freeing sensation of bingeing and purging, and keep going without the high for more than a week, but he needs to try.

 

 _Just say the magic words,_ but he can’t actually bring himself to ask for help. He doesn’t even care whether he deserves it or not by now. Being able to hold onto Leonard, cry on his shoulder and feel his skin against his lips should be enough to convince him, but not just yet. He’d kiss him if he didn’t think he smells like vomit and blood, so he stays there, so he will never forget how it feels to have Leonard next to him, taking care of him.

 

“It’s so not going to be okay, Jim” Leonard says chuckling as he runs his fingers through Jim’s hair. “It’s gonna be harder than the last time, and the pain’s gonna be worse. You’ll feel empty for so long, forced to do things you don’t know how to do. You’re gonna go through Tarsus all over again, starving yourself of everything that makes you feel real, and it’s gonna feel as if you’re finally breaking, but you’re not, Jim, you’re not broken”.

 

“I hate you for doing this to me, you’re so not helping right now” It’s half true, Jim thinks, words muffled against Leonard’s shirt. There’s no turning back, because permission given or not, there are several things going to be taken away from him for his own good. Freedom means nothing though, he was never free.

 

“I wanna see you out there again, and I know it’s kinda rude, but I hate feeling your bones every time I touch you, and I hate seeing you hurt and cry because of it, more than hearing you eat and throw up” He sighs. Jim’s going to fight back once he’s strong, he’s quite sure. “They want to help, we want to help, but you gotta let me in, for real this time. Not just on the surface, you gotta talk me through it; make me listen, make me feel the same thing you’re feeling”

 

“I don’t want to be in a hospital for months, I don’t want to have to eat” _I want you to help make me, though,_ he almost says this time, voice cracking, and words getting stuck in his throat. Is it just another consequence of his illness? “Why hasn’t it killed me yet?” He asks, and Leonard’s breathing stops for a moment. Jim bites his lower lip, and tries to stop himself from crying harder, but he can’t, he’s so lost and scared.

 

“I’m not letting it kill you, kid, not anymore” Bones assures him. That’s something else he’d like to believe. He knows what the future looks like; it’s more or less tragic, filled with fury, anger, hunger and emptiness.

 

Leonard allows himself to hold onto this moment and Jim’s body, the memories they’ve made together until now will make no sense without his eating disorder, so Jim won’t only lose his identity, but also part of his and Leonard’s relationship, which has always been based on the prospect of Jim dying or Bones leaving. It’s not fair, but it’s something they both have to consider before assuming responsibilities they’re not ready to take.

 

Jim’s grip weakens, and Leonard takes the time they’ve got left to take in the, what are supposed to be, last memories of his Jim’s illness.

 

Getting Jim out of his clothes feels weird because he hasn’t done so in a while. He lets his fingertips brush lightly over his body, stroking the parts where bones are too sharp, where skin used to flush and get too hot, where Jim used to feel something.

 

Jim reaches to stroke his dark hair whenever he’s able to, melting into the intimate moment, pretending nothing is wrong, except for the fact they’re both too tired to do anything but kiss each other’s necks and hands.

 

“You’re gonna do it for yourself, for your starship, for your future” Bones whispers. Jim nods as an answer as his body’s practically enveloped by Leonard’s warmth. “You’re not gonna do it for me, or your friends or the civilisations that need saving”.

 

It’s far too real, like nothing and everything at the same time, like food in his mouth. It’s not fair, he thinks.

 

“Why can’t I do it for us?”

 

“Because I’m not gonna be here forever, Jim” And he’s right. He knows Jim’s usual course of action will probably mean he’s going to die sometime soon, sick or not, as a Captain or not, but he knows he’s not strong enough to go through this a million times. After all, carrying him out of the mess they’re both into, doesn’t mean after they’re out he’s still gonna be needed as anything more than a CMO.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
